


Tense

by SalamanderSocks



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Anxiety, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Depressing Thoughts, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gen, Headcanon, Misgendering, Never going to be finshed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-30
Updated: 2016-08-30
Packaged: 2018-08-11 22:42:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7910413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SalamanderSocks/pseuds/SalamanderSocks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How does one cope with going back to a life of walking on eggshells. Abandoned headcanon exploration.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tense

**Author's Note:**

> This is an exploration of some headcanons I have about Frisk, their mother, and how things went after returning from the underground. This will probably never be formally completed or even revised. I just wanted to get my thoughts down and possibly share them with others. I wrote too much for me to want to throw it away forever. There's no real closure in this. Feel free to message me if you want to talk about how it continues or if you have any questions, but I'm decidedly not up to writing out the rest in any kind of graceful manner. 
> 
> A warning, some of this is autobiographical and may be triggering? Child abuse, emotional abuse, misgendering. I wanted to explore feelings I had and situations I was in as a child that I realize now were... Not normal. I did not grow up feeling uncomfortable with my gender, so please forgive any mistakes I may have made on that front.
> 
> This Frisk is DFAB but goes by They/Them.

You feel your throat choke up as you approached the door. Toriel gives your hand a reassuring squeeze and smiles warmly at you. You feel sick. There was no way to know how this was going to go. You gather your determination and free yourself from her grasp and bravely knock on the door.

 

“It’s open!” You hear the intimately familiar voice of your mother. Her tone is laidback and carefree. This was an awful idea. Toriel’s face is unreadable, but it’s obvious that this is not what she expected. 

 

You open the door and give out a tentative cry of, “Mom?”

 

The room seems to drop 10 degrees in temperature. You were obviously the last person she expected as she glances over the back of the couch. 

  
  


“F-Franziska?!” You frown at your birth name. It feels wrong. Her reaction is a little too delayed for your liking. Not that you were really enjoying much of this anyway. She stumbles over the couch and kneels in front of you, taking your face in her hands, “You’re ok?! H-how? Where?” She can’t seem to find the right question. Her eyes are filled with fear that only deepens as she takes stock of the goat monster beside her. “W-who are you?” She’s shaking.

 

“My name is Toriel.” Her tone is warm, but… Off… You figure she’ll pass it off as a weird human reaction. You hope she does.  You also hope she doesn’t.  “Frisk has been on quite an adventure as of late.”

 

“Y-you don’t say...”

 

“They’ve been a huge help to monsterkind, though I guess you would know that already. The press will hardly leave any of us alone.” She laughs with a hint of exasperation. “Which is why we believed that Frisk would fare much better with their family, our stressful situation being what it is. Besides, I know better than anyone how it is to worry over one's child.” She pats your head affectionately.

 

She sweats as the spotlight is placed on her. She has no answers. She weasles her way out of a response by hugging you. “I can’t believe you were gone for so long, Franny.” 

 

“They’re surprisingly resourceful.” Her stance relaxes as your mother’s reaction seems to assuage her misgivings. “And quite a mature little ambassador.”

 

“A-ambassador?” She looks blindsided.

 

“Yes, but don’t worry, we’ll help handle any administrative business and work with both your schedules. We can’t have Frisk falling behind in their studies.” She tutts sternly, but with love.

 

You mom still refuses to add anything meaningful to the conversation. After a pregnant pause, Toriel excuses herself. “Well, I won’t intrude any longer.” You pry yourself from your mom’s grasp and latch on to Toriel’s leg. “Goodbye, child.” Her eyes are a little misty. Yours are too. “Be sure to keep in touch. We’ll miss having you around all the time, but you can visit any time.” She draws you into probably one of the top 10 hugs you’ve ever had.

 

“Bye, mom...” You whisper into her fur. It’s tickling your nose but that doesn’t matter.

 

She’s reluctant to let go. So are you. But it ends. She turns to leave and pauses at the door to glance back before she’s gone. You want to scream for her not to leave. You want to run into her arms, to beg her to take you with her. But you do not. You stand and watch her leave.

 

“Be good, won’t you?” She says with a bittersweet smile as she disappears through the door.

 

Tears are streaming down your face. This feels too familiar. Too much like the end. Like you’ll never see her again. You half expect a cloud of dust to stand in her wake. Far too morbid for your tastes. But it resonates too deeply for you to let it go. This feels like a nightmare, but you can’t wake up.

 

Toriel’s absence leaves a chasm of silence in its wake. Neither of you will say it outright. You go back into your mother’s embrace and bury your head in her chest. Everything about it is familiar and comforting. So why did you feel awful still?

 

“A… Are you hungry sweetheart?” She asks, testing the waters. You look up at her and nod gently. “Alright,” she pulls herself from you. You feel naked without her embrace. Cold.  “I have some leftover tacos from last night.” She smiles sheepishly, “They’re always better the next day, right?” 

 

You hop up in a chair at the table. You give a sound of approval as you settle in. She places the plate in front of you and takes a seat perpendicular to you at the cramped square table. Her face is a facade that you’ve come to accept. The true conversation remains unspoken as you eat.

 

“That’s my good girl...”  _ You didn’t tell them, did you? _

 

_ I know you’re afraid, but I didn’t. _

 

“I’m glad you’re ok.”  _ You weren’t supposed to come back _

 

_ I couldn’t help it. _

 

“They seem… nice...”  _ How could this have happened? What are those THINGS? _

 

_ I’m sorry…. _

 

“Let’s get you to bed, it’s been an exciting day.”  _ What am I supposed to do now? This wasn’t part of the plan. _

 

_ I forgive you… _

 

She ushers you to your bedroom with gentle words. She almost seems like a real mom. Maybe she’d be different now. Maybe this was the wake-up call she needed.  Your room is just how you left it. A little bare, but familiar off white walls. There were a few smudges from where you’d drawn on the walls when you were littler. You never did it again. Scattered toys sent lonesome glances your way. 

 

“C’mon, time for jammies.” Your mom pulls out pajamas for you from your old dresser and changes you. It makes you feel like you’re much smaller, but it’s a good small. You glance at the closed closet door. You’ve never slept with it open before. Too many monsters lurking in the shadows. It’s a silly thought and you know it’s childish, but you crack it open, just a little. Maybe one of your friends might visit. Sans, probably, knowing his abuse of ‘shortcuts.’ You really miss his awful puns about now. You smile just a little and head toward bed.

 

“Ready for bed?” Mother asks as she picks you up and tucks you in the covers. You shrug in a moment of honesty. You’re emotionally drained, but not really sleepy. A small chuckle comes from you mom as she kisses you lightly on the forehead. “Alright.” She brushes her hand through your hair affectionately, petting you gently. You smile a bit more, understanding the dogs better. Pets were very nice.

 

You bury yourself in the covers more as she begins to hum an old familiar tune. Your eyes close and you hold on to the hope that things would stay like this. Maybe she’d want you now. You liked when she was like this, even if it was just pretend. Pretneding to be a affectionate person. Pretending everything wasn’t awful and tense. It was nice. Maybe not ideal, but nice. You drift off, determined that life would be better for everyone and that this was for the best…

  
  
  
  


………...

  
  


Things were… Okay… for a bit. They always were after something Bad. You did your best to keep the scale balanced. As long as things were uneventful and calm, things might stay that way. Maybe the little bad things from day to day life wouldn’t pile up. It was like trying to tiptoe around a monster. Though, in your experience, monsters were usually a little more predictable and reasonable. As days passed, you could already feel the edges of the peaceful family facade fraying.

 

Just follow the script. Stick to the routine. It was practiced but not perfect by any means. You would wake up and look in the fridge for something to nibble on. Best case scenario: Leftovers that she wouldn’t notice you picked at and/or care. Worst would be that you had to make something and finish off something. That opened up the possibility of her being upset at having to pick up more and honestly you hated parts of the script that relied on her mood.

 

You held the fridge handle with all the anxiety of a man playing russian roulette. Did you even deserve to eat today? Was it worth it? You shook that thought away from yourself, it was silly. But was it really?  Luck was on your side today, some cold fries and an abandoned half a sandwich were laying in the back. She must have given up on it because of the pickles. You didn’t like them either but you were in no position to complain about this small blessing.

 

You pour yourself a carefully calculated glass of tea. You couldn’t finish it off because you know it’s her favorite. And if you leave too little she’ll be arguably angrier because it was like teasing her. Enough to make her want it, but too little to satisfy. You learned that lesson a long while back. Only take what was necessary. Be as invisible as possible. 

 

The meal is finished a little too fast but you don’t want to risk being caught eating. Logically, you knew that it was a ridiculous paranoia, but in this house everything was a risk. If you could control every cause, maybe you could fear the reactions a little less. Walking over to the sink, you prepare to wash the dishes, making mental notes of where everything was so you could place them back as if you hadn’t touched it.

 

A loud chirp from you phone pulls you from your task. It’s a group selfie of your monster family. You almost tear up looking at their happy faces. You would give anything to be with them right now, but that wasn’t an option right now. Not yet. Maybe if you were good enough, unintrusive enough, she’d bring them up and maybe, JUST maybe, you could bring up seeing them and MAYBE she’d let you go see them… You see your battery is a 46% and decide it would be prudent to plug it in, so you grab your charger from the room and plug it in next to the couch, letting your phone rest on the nearby end table. 

 

The silence of the house gets to you as you lay back on the couch. 

 

It’s so lonely….

 

You couldn’t bring that up to them, they’d over react. As gratifying as that was to know, it wasn’t a solution. You turn on the TV and let the white noise of a trashy daytime show take the edge off your anxious feelings.

 

. . . . .  

 

The turning click of the lock is what snaps you into consciousness. You must have drifted off after the third rerun of that mouse cartoon. Everything is tingly with panic as your body tries to catch up with your mind. You grab your phone and turn the TV off and sprint to your room as quickly as your body allowed. The screen dies so agonizingly slowly as the door opens. Did she see it? Why are you panicked? You’re allowed to watch tv. But are you? You couldn’t be sure if you were in trouble in her mind. It’s too late to dwell on that now. All you can do is peek out at her from behind your door and say “Hi...” with a meek smile and hope that entreats you to her good side.

 

She sighs. A bad sign. A harbinger of doom. Were her steps heavier than usual? It seemed like it. You work to control your breathing. If you pretend it’s alright it will be….? She heads to the kitchen to grab a drink and says nothing at it being the slightest bit emptier. 

 

A sick icy feeling pierces your stomach as she turns to the sink.

 

You forgot.

 

You left it.

 

The glass.

 

You could swear the room got darker as you heard her grunt of frustration.

 

“I can’t BELIEVE this Franziska!” Her glower makes you feel like trash. Worse. “I work all day and you expect me to be your maid too?!” She’s upon you all too soon and you’re frozen in place. 

 

“I’m sorry!” You plead as she grabs your wrist. “I forgot!”

 

“How many times have I told you to clean up after yourself!”

 

“I’msorryI’msorryI’msorry!” You’re babbling but you can’t think of anything else to say. This is the Wrong answer.

 

“Sorry doesn’t mean ANYTHING! If you were really sorry you wouldn’t do it in the first place!” She sneers, coming down to your level and pulling you lower by the wrist. “You don’t mean it at all. Sorry is just FUCK YOU. And I don’t want your ‘Fuck You’s.” You have no response. You want to tell her she’s wrong but you know better than to escalate the situation any more. You can’t decide whether to hold her gaze or not. She’s called it disrespectful for you to look away but every instinct tells you not to look her in the eyes. You split the difference and stare behind her head. It feels like an eternity but she eventually breaks her gaze with snort of disgust. You do your best to not fall over as she pushes you further into your room by your wrist. She doesn’t shove hard but your wrist is pulsing where she held it.

 

“You are to stay in here until I come get you! Not a peep! I mean it missy!” ‘Missy’ stings like a slap to the face. Her words are final and law. They ring in your ears as she flicks your light switch and not quite slams the door behind her. A gentle claustrophobic feeling sets in as you look around your cage of a room. It was going to be a long night.

 

You grope in your pocket for the familiar form of your cell phone. You felt guilty for hiding it from her, but letting go of your last shred of hope was not an option. You flip through pictures from the last few weeks you spent with your friends. You get a little misty-eyed seeing Toriel’s warm smile as she gives bunny ears to Sans. A spaghetti-splattered Papyrus and Undyne grin through the screen. An unflattering shot of Asgore mid-sneeze from a pollen allergy he hadn’t known he’d had until coming to the surface. You smiled through your tears and wished you were anywhere but here.

 

Your thoughts were interrupted by a 15% battery warning from the phone. A most surprising and unwelcome alert. Ah! You picked the wrong outlet! You had forgotten that one didn’t work if you didn’t have the switch on. Just batting a thousand tonight, weren’t you? You sigh, it was still early but there was no chance you’d forget to send your goodnight text to Toriel. It was tradition, afterall. You get a text back almost immediately.

 

“Goodnight, Frisk. I hope you’re doing well. We all miss you and want you to visit again soon.”

 

You smiled halfheartedly. You wanted to visit too, but with mom in this mood, there was no chance. Asking was too dangerous.

 

As far as punishments went, this wasn’t the worst thing in the world. It didn’t hurt at least. Well, maybe. Your pride was certainly hurt. Well, maybe? It just felt… Unfair. It didn’t fit. You remembered how scared you’d felt when you met Sans in the judgement hall. Scared that you’d done something wrong. Scared that you’d messed everything up. That you’d have to answer for some unspoken crime. Had you taken too much candy? Was the crossword actually the right answer? Whose toes had you stepped on?

 

...Sans was quite intimidating when he wanted to be. And that perhaps scared you the most. What made him so serious about it all? Part of you really didn’t want to know the answer to that… The difference was that he’d judged them to be good or at least caring enough of others to not hurt them. Something you didn’t want to imagine yourself doing… But… Your head began to pound and you decided to switch gears.

 

This judgement seemed like a trial without a jury. Cruel and unusual. You couldn’t get over the disparity in fit. You tried so hard to be ‘good.’ Why was it so much easier in Underland? Everyone else seemed to understand you were doing your best. Why couldn’t she? She was your harshest critic, judge, and jailer.

 

You sigh and pull your comforter around you as your thoughts spiral. At the end of it you just feel…. Sad…. You close your eyes and hope everything will be better when you wake up. That you’ll be in her good graces, that some sort of divine power would make her see that you weren’t the problem she kept making you out to be (were you?). That you’d be wanted, loved, appreciated. You felt childish but it still made you feel a bit better. So, Nyeh. 

 

The boredom of lying in the dying light of the day, trapped in your room was getting to you. Nothing to do now but s l e e p ...

  
  
  
  


…..

  
  
  
  


The headache is gone but replaced by a gnawing anxiety. The darkness is suffocating. You reach for your phone and feel immediate relief as the screen illuminates your corner of the room. You don’t dare switch on the light… It’s too late in the night for that to be allowed and the last thing you needed was to provoke mom. 

 

3%

 

You let out a hushed curse that you’d heard from tv (probably? could have been Undyne too.) as you remembered that the charger was in the living room by the end table. There’s no way you’re getting that any time soon. You had to work quick. You wrack your brain for any viable source of light in the room. It was amazing that you’d had less trouble finding light sources than you did here. What you’d do for one of those cute squeaking mushrooms about now. 

 

You grab the flashlight you stashed in your dresser. It’s dead. Your breathing quickens, you can’t stand this. Your head is swarming, and tears prick your eyes. You search through your toys, trying to find one that lights up, anything would do. You do your best not to make a single sound all the while for fear of alerting mother to your presence. It’s more stressful than defusing a bomb, which was saying something considering you’d actually defused bombs before. But this time the danger was all too real.

 

You find an old plush from a cartoon you used to love. The doll was old and certainly beat up, almost creepy really. It was supposed to say catchphrases and light up when squeezed but you’d torn out the speaker long ago when it had almost woken up mom one night. A small sacrifice for comfort. The soft glow from its belly as you squeezed it was a godsend. 

  
  


The prickles that had once bothered your eyes moved downward at an alarming pace.

 

No… Not now…  _ Please _

 

You curse more at your body for betraying you like this. You hadn’t had a chance to use the bathroom before your impromptu punishment and now you were desperate. Options… what are your options?

 

  1. Sneak to out of the room and into the bathroom (highly inadvisable)
  2. Use your sheets and
    1. Hide it (Viable, but embarrassing and risky)
    2. Say you had an accident (technically acceptable, but you couldn’t gauge how much she might react.)
  3. Window??? (Not really an option because it’s painted shut but too reasonable to leave off the list)
  4. Suffer and hope for a miracle (Best option, awful.)
  5. Find something in the room to contain it?? (humiliating and unsanitary)



 

You bite your lip as the urge grows. Your mind spins in circles going through the options over and over, trying to weigh the consequences. With desperation you try to peek under the door into the hall. You strain your eyes looking toward mom’s room and then to the living room. You cursed for probably the millionth time at how inconvenient your room’s position is. You only see the flickering light of the tv in the living room but no movement. Putting your ear to the door you can only hear the mumblings of some late night program. You strain to pick out the unmistakable tones of your mother but there’s nothing. You strain harder, trying to distract yourself from your situation and growing shame over how difficult this is.

 

Tears are springing to your eyes as you feel the weight of your humiliation and your bladder. Desperation growing. This is too much, too urgent, too difficult to ignore. Gathering your determination you put your hand on the doorknob. 

 

Gently

 

Carefully

 

Expertly

 

You turn the knob without a sound and pull it from the jamb with the precision of a brain surgeon. You curse the paint as it makes a slightly sticky sound from coming apart. You’re on high alert, stock still, and every bit of you tingles with anxiety. After a moment, you’re sure she didn’t hear you and carefully allow the knob to turn to its neutral position and peek ever so cautiously into the hall.

 

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding as you see that mom’s door is closed and the light is off. No guarantees that you’re out of the woods, but you like your chances a little better. If only your heart would calm down and stop rushing in your ears.

 

In and out, real quick, be fast, silent, get it over with and pretend this never happened. That’s the plan. You open the door just far enough to squeeze out, knowing it will creak passed a certain point. No betrayal tonight. With memorized agility you scampered to the bathroom and the, ironically, safe feeling darkness. 

 

The light is out of the question. Memory is your greatest asset as you go the the toilet to relieve yourself, using tissue to mask the sound. Embarrassing but effective.

 

The relief is immediate and a special kind of bliss. 

 

With a hushed sigh you finish and turn the handle

 

NO NO NON ONONONONO!

 

The flushing echoes through the house like a fog horn. ABORT ABORT ABORT

 

Without thinking you run into the hall. 

 

CAUGHT.

 

You’re a deer in the headlights as you make eye contact with a strange man in his underwear who has come out of mom’s room. Not mom. Bad to Worse. He looks away for a second and you see your chance.

 

In a rush of panic you flee back to your room and shut the door as quietly and quickly as possible but it still makes a click as your nervous hand fumbles with the knob. You hope he writes it off as a dream or a trick of the light. Maybe the hallway wasn’t bright enough for him to see you. Maybe his sight is based on movement like Doggo. You’re grasping at straws. Terror grips you as you hear a deep voice from behind muffling walls.It sounds angry and confused. Accusing. 

 

Your mom’s voice joins him. She sounds about as desperate as you feel. You flinch and crawl under the bed. You used to be afraid of monsters under here. Now you’d give anything to find one. They’re much nicer… Your sweater is under here with you. Hearing the argument kick off, you bury your head into it. It smells like Toriel’s house. Like Home. Hot tears stream down your face as the spectre of your punishment grows over you like a terrible cloud. 

 

The fight gets louder. You can’t make much of it out, but it doesn’t stop you from trying to catch bits in a twisted voyeuristic thrill. 

 

“....KID?!... WH….AR…..HIDING….. Y...LYI….ME...”

 

“PLE…. DON…GO….NO...MINE….S...MY NIEC...”

 

The fight is more muffled as they move through the house toward the front door. You hear your mom beg loudly as the door slams with earth shattering finality. The tolling bell of your doom (or at the very least bad time.) You feel a wretchedly familiar buzz in your pocket that signifies that your phone has died. Awesome. You prayed to every god, spirit, and deity you could conjure up for forgiveness and leniency…

 

But no one came.

 

You saved monsterkind but you could do nothing to save yourself. 

 

The tension in the air as you hear her footsteps approach your door chokes the air out of your lungs. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


You blearily blink back into consciousness, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. Your eyes have that particular post-cry freshness with only a little puffiness. It’s oddly nice feeling? A sharp sting from your backside serves as a jarring reminder of last night.

 

You shuffle your lower half off the bed, trying to use the least amount of movement to end up on your feet. It still hurts, but it was at least a little better this way, you hoped. You lean against your bed breathing deeply, processing mostly.

 

Your shirt is sticky with sweat and your hair is oily. You hate it. It’s almost worse than the pulsing pain from last night. You felt you understood Woshua a little better. Glancing at the window you can tell it’s mid-day. Mom shouldn’t be home; a small blessing. A sudden pang of guilt enters your heart the moment you think that. You shouldn’t think things like that.

 

With trepidation, you shuffle out of your room. It doesn’t hurt as much as you had expected anymore. It smarted but nothing you couldn’t hide. Life would be better after a bath, you told yourself with determination. You turned the faucet to a little hotter than normal, undressed, and gingerly sat yourself in the filling tub. You hiss with pain as the water touches every aching spot from last night. In a sick way, it kind of feels good. You feel… alive? It scared you a little, but it was too much of a comfort to stop. You control your breathing, focusing on the pain as it slowly fades and your body adjusts to the water. It’s a special kind of calming. 

 

You stop the water as the level approaches to rim of the tub. You savor the feeling of your hair floating around you, you feel otherworldly, ethereal and calm. Like a jellyfish. You soak for a while, until the anxious thoughts broke through and began their assault again… What could you do? On the surface, you were just a child. A burden to be passed off and reprimanded. 

 

You could [RESET]... no. No you couldn’t… You promised Sans. You’d done enough to hurt everyone already. And there was no guarantee that you’d be merciful. It was too much of a gamble. Even if you weren’t happy, monsterkind was, more or less. You couldn’t take that away from them…. again…. Sans already didn’t trust you. You knew that for sure and if your nightmares as of late were any indication, he had every right to be. 

 

So what was left? 

  
You could go to Toriel, beg her to take you, like the burden you are. While you didn’t doubt that Toriel would be there with open arms, you did worry about what they would think of your mother. It wasn’t worth it. Mom wasn’t really evil. You knew she really did love you, somewhere inside, but wasn’t good at it. She was trying… And it didn’t hurt THAT bad. Plenty of other kids had it way worse. Who were you to decide that she wasn’t good enough and could be replaced? Toriel wouldn’t understand. She was too righteous to. You didn’t deserve her anyway. Not after what you’d done in other timelines...





End file.
